


The Pleasures of a Slow Dance

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Cookies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: I've been reading Whopooh's excellent blog 'Reading Miss Fisher' but I got distracted by pictures of biscuits, which made me think of this, and then I felt I had to do another from Phryne's POV.They're just Phrack banter, the first one takes place after Dead Air but before Unnatural Habits, the second at the end of the day of Game, Set & Murder.And now I've seen the trope for February it seems even more appropriate to post some angst-free Phrack : )





	1. Of Baked Goods

Phryne came striding through his office door, she didn't bother to knock but she did close it behind her. He pretended to continue completing the paperwork in front of him.

"Do you know one of the things I admire most about you Jack?"

"My infinite patience?" he suggested without raising his eyes.

Her pointed silence made him give up the paperwork farce, it was fooling no one. With a sigh he put down his pen and sat back in his chair, he sighed again when she took that as an invitation to make herself comfortable on his desk.

"No. Care to try again?"

Infuriating woman, he thought, "My safe and considerate approach to driving?"

"Well, that is going too far Inspector," she said, a note of warning in her voice.

He held his hands up in surrender, "I declare myself completely unaware of any personal traits I possess that you would admire, so please feel free to enlighten me."

She considered him for a moment before, in a voice free of all artifice and teasing, she said, "Your quiet generosity."

He held her gaze steadily, "No. I'm sorry, that hasn't enlightened me in the least."

"Lola just told me she has you to thank for her new job."

Jack pulled his chair back under his desk, maybe it was actually worth another attempt at the 'I'm doing paperwork' strategy, "I was simply aware of a vacancy. If there's nothing else, as you can see, I have paperwork to complete."

Smiling she dropped her eyes and saw the open tin of biscuits he had forgotten to put back in his drawer, "As it happens, you do have other qualities that I admire Jack."

Oh good, she was staying, he hadn't really wanted her to leave, just to change the topic. This was her flirting voice which meant, if he could keep a level head, he had a chance to throw her off balance. He gave up on the paperwork, again, "Really Miss Fisher, do tell."

She shuffled across the desk until her leg rested against his and he began to wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew. 

"I admire your calm, even, temperament," she started.

"There certainly are times when I'm forced to operate under extreme provocation," he noted. 

"I like the way you're always so buttoned up and proper," she leaned across reaching out with her left hand to stroke his tie, pulling it up and out of his waistcoat running down its length before bringing her hand back to rest on the lapel of his suit jacket.

"Careful Miss Fisher, every man has limits," his voice was low and dangerous as he gazed up at her from under his lashes.

"Surely not you Inspector?" she challenged, moving to clasp his right hand in hers, entwining their fingers, "And your hands Jack, they're strong and slightly calloused but I know how delicately they can move across the piano keys."

"Phryne," he rumbled.

She looked slightly surprised by the depth of his reaction and he saw her tongue flick quickly across her lips. He took her momentary loss of concentration as an opportunity to bring his free hand to where their hands were joined, stroking her wrist, staring steadily into her eyes. He lifted an eyebrow when he felt her pulse quicken.

"I told you Miss Fisher every man has his limits, and mine..." he tightened his fingers around hers so she couldn't withdraw, "in respect of biscuits, is one per person," he said triumphantly, enjoying the flicker in her eyes when she realised she had been caught out. After a second she relaxed, admitting defeat, pouting adorably when he deftly ran his left hand up her arm to locate the biscuits hidden in her sleeve. He handed her one before placing the other back in the tin, put the lid on with a flourish and moved to return it to the drawer. 

"Of course, there are always exceptions. I do allow an extra biscuit if there are tears involved," he turned back to her with mock concern on his face, "are there likely to be tears do you think?" he enquired.

She gave him a smile, the one he thought of as 24 karat Collingwood, "No Jack, definitely no tears today," her eyes sparkling as she bit into her biscuit.

He nodded, "Good, because I won't have a fresh supply until Wednesday."

As the drawer closed, he knew, it was worth a hell of a lot more than a tin of baked goods to see that smile every day.


	2. Of Distractions

She leaned back in the low comfortable deck chair, enjoying the last rays of the evening sun warming her body. It had been the best of days, a murder solved and then the unexpected delight of tennis with Jack. She gazed across at him, confident that he wouldn't be able to see her eyes behind her sunglasses. She had never seen him so relaxed, slouched in a matching deck chair his fingers trailing on the ground, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head, no hat or sunglasses, was tilted back to catch the sun. His eyes were closed and the slow even movement of his chest suggested he might in fact be asleep.

She smiled, how delightful! She could sit here and stare at him to her hearts content. This day was just getting better and better. Now where should she start? Maybe where his hair was curling around his ear, or no, perhaps the way the angle of his head highlighted the planes of his face? Or there, at his throat where two buttons were undone revealing flesh normally well hidden behind shirt and tie. She imagined running her fingers along his skin, following the curve of his shirt collar and then down to that hollow that was simply made to be worshiped by her lips and tongue. 

Her eyes drifted down his body, look at those delicious forearms, oh how she wished she could reach out and touch him. Her eyes flicked back up to his eyes, dare she? She looked back at his arm, the outline of his tendons, the hairs glinting in the sun, those beautiful hands... She licked her lips, her eyes following the line of his legs. She remembered how toned they were from Queenscliff, and she could certainly appreciate them in his tennis whites. She looked back up at his face. Damn! His eyes, whilst gorgeous, were not something she was wanting to look at right now. 

He turned his head towards her, blinking slowly, "I'm fairly sure that, even in Collingwood, you would have been taught it's rude to stare."

Actually, maybe it was worth getting caught just to hear that voice, "It's entirely your own fault Jack," she shot back.

He raised an eyebrow, "How so Miss Fisher?"

"Well you have purposely draped yourself over that deck chair in a manner clearly calculated to distract me," she waited to see how he would respond to such a blatant comment.

"Really? I thought I was having a well deserved rest with a colleague following a rather stimulating and successful day."

She checked carefully, had she offended him? He gave her one of his half smiles. No, he wasn't offended.

He continued, "However, if I have inadvertently given a different impression I apologise. Could you perhaps? No, never mind... that's probably inappropriate." He closed his eyes and turned his head back towards the sun.

Wonderful, he was going to play! How she did like playful Jack. "As your professional partner I would be more than happy to help you Jack," her heart skipped when she saw him nod his head in acknowledgement of her use of the phrase 'professional partner', "Tell me, what can I do?"

"I thought you might explain what you find so distracting about my current posture."

The cheeky devil, "Why Inspector? If I didn't know you better I'd think you were fishing for compliments."

"Not at all, I merely wonder," he turned his head back and fluttered his eyelashes at her, "exactly what it would take to distract the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher."

"Surely you know by now Jack, it takes very little," she kept her tone light and carefree, interested to see where he was going with this.

He kept his eyes on hers, unwavering, "I was thinking of a more longstanding distraction."

Oh. How to respond to that? Jack Robinson had been distracting her now for nearly two years and the more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend. "The list of requirements is rather lengthy," she warned.

"I have time."

She shrugged turning her face to the sun, "Very well. Firstly, he would need to be a man of outstanding moral character with a particular interest in justice. Though, I would need to be sure that he was compassionate," she glanced across, he was still watching her, "because it should never be a crime to love someone and everyone deserves a second chance."

He nodded, "Hardly an exceptional list so far Miss Fisher, you've just described almost the entire Melbourne Constabulary."

"I'm not nearly finished, think of that as the entry threshold," she smiled, facing back to the sun, "He would need to be brave, calm under pressure and reliable. That's very important Jack, reliability. I do expect a man to be there when he's needed, say you were to find yourself in an unfriendly town or trapped in a mansion with a serial killer," she looked to see how he was handling her declaration. His face was completely unreadable as normal. Damn him.

"Do you intend to spend your entire time investigating murders?"

Ah, that is what he was concerned about, "Of course not Jack, what would be the point of that? I'd expect his conversation to be entertaining, so he'll need to be well read, preferably with a classical bent. And he must be a dancer, that's not open to negotiation, though if he had a particular expertise in one form of dancing, take the waltz for example, that would be more than satisfactory. Finally, a fairly high level of physical fitness would be required."

He raised an eyebrow.

"There are certain non-murder related activities that I like to indulge in on a rather frequent basis. If I were to curtail these activities to one man..." Did I just hear him catch his breath? "I would be unhappy if the regularity of said activity was to decrease, in fact," she dropped her eyes to his lips then let them drift slowly down his body, "given the obvious desirability of this entirely fictional man I would prefer that the frequency increase."

He cleared his throat, "May I make an observation?"

"I always value your opinion Jack."

He tilted his head accepting the compliment, "It seems a very narrow criteria."

"It is," she confirmed.

He gazed at her in silent contemplation and the warmth she felt coursing through her body now had nothing to do with the sun. As always she felt herself being pulled in by his quiet intensity, the desire to solve his mystery flooding her senses, to have a claim on him beyond the professional, beyond even friendship, overwhelming.

He blinked, breaking the spell, "Thank you Miss Fisher, for satisfying my curiosity," then, closing his eyes, he turned back to the sun.

"Is that it?"

"Sorry... rest assured, should I ever come across a man who meets your exacting specifications I shall be sure to send him your way."

Well, that was beyond the pale! He hadn't even bothered to open his eyes as he spoke. The infuriating, insufferable... she watched as his breathing returned to that slow even pace, the light dancing across the contours of his face where the barest hint of smile rested on his lips... completely delicious man. 

Oh, she knew this game now, though she had only recently learned all the rules. The rapture of not giving into instant gratification, the slow languid delight of thinking about all the things you wanted to do with someone, one day, when the time was absolutely perfect. She settled back comfortably in her chair, brushing her fingers against the tin badge on her lapel as the last of the sun warmed her body. Happy in the knowledge that, at some unspecified time in the future, she would have the incredible pleasure of learning exactly how it felt to have Jack Robinson make love to her. A shiver of anticipation ran through her, she couldn't... no, she corrected herself... she could wait.


End file.
